


A Shot in the Dark (Won't be blinded by the light)

by Werelibrarian



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Coffee, College era, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8236964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werelibrarian/pseuds/Werelibrarian
Summary: Frank put down his black coffee with a thunk, then do-si-doed the mugs around. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted Foggy's mug and drank deeply. When he was done, his smile was ridiculously shy for a man whose biceps looked like that."You have whipped cream on your nose," breathed Foggy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iraya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraya/gifts).



Foggy's date was wonderful. Tall, gorgeous, sarcastic, dimples for days, and walking away with Matt Murdock.

Ok, that last one was distinctly less than wonderful.

Foggy'd clocked the glitch in the program about twenty minutes ago, which was five minutes after he'd made the fatal error of letting Matt actually _crash_ his "hey, you wanna grab some coffee and gripe about homework?" not-date date.

Laura'd leaned forward, and Matt had leaned forward, and Foggy'd looked at the two of them, sighed, and said, "you know Matt, Laura does muay thai."

Sometimes there was just no fighting fate.

Foggy sharpened his pencil, his notebook and his law textbook open on the table, and felt eyes on the back of his neck. He twisted around. Two people were staring at their laptops; one reading the newspaper, one just napping with his eyes open. Behind the counter, the barista was scrubbing a blender jug. Matt and Laura apparently didn't even feel the need to leave the coffee shop before canoodling; they were talking with their heads close together while still technically _in the location of the date with Foggy_.

Grimacing a supportive smile, he bent his head over his textbook. Friday nights were as good for homework as any other, right?

"Hey."

Foggy looked up. Matt stood next to the table, stiff and a little pink in the face.

"I don't have any condoms," Foggy said, because sometimes he wasn't all that nice.

Matt went pinker. "No, uh. I'm good. Thanks. Laura says that the soldier in the corner has been staring at you since before I came in."

"What?" Foggy peered around Matt's body. The guy reading the newspaper was wearing the tan uniform of a Marine, but he was absolutely not looking at Foggy. "Uh, nope, he's not."

A big, foofy, whip-cream covered cup of sweetness landed at his elbow. On the other side of the table, Laura was smiling down at him.

"He's looking now."

Foggy didn't move his head but his eyes swivelled like he was trying to peer through his own ear. "What? Why?"

"Because I just sent a coffee to his table and said it was from you."

Foggy covered his face. "I really didn't need you to do that."

"Probably. You probably don't need me to do this either," she said, and dropped a kiss on his mouth.

"Uhm," he stated, hands hovering uselessly in midair. 

"Your turn," Laura chirped.

"Whose what now?" Foggy yelped, but, red as a fire engine, Matt found his face with gentle fingers and kissed him sweetly. For half a second, Foggy kissed back.

As the pressure of Matt's lips lifted, Foggy's eyeballs turned themselves in the direction of the guy in the corner.

He wasn't just staring, he was _goggling_.

"Okay, bye now, good luck," Matt said, his words all smashed together. The little bell on the swinging door? It was deafening.

Foggy blinked at his books, at the cup, at the floor, at the ceiling. Then he did it again.

Right.

He shoved all his stuff back into his bag, picked up his cup of whipped cream and sat down across from the startled Marine, who still had his coffee frozen mid-sip.

"Tell me you have an answer," Foggy pleaded.

"To what?" The soldier's voice was a gravelly burr.

"Anything." Foggy rubbed his face. "At this point, I'll take anything. Why is the sky blue? Why did the Dodgers leave Brooklyn? What did the first fifty six varieties of Heinz ketchup taste like?"

The guy looked down and smiled. 

"They sure did a number on you, huh? Your boyfriend and your girlfriend?"

"My best friend and his new friend," Foggy corrected. The soldier's smile grew.

"I'm Frank," he said. Frank had big ears and a nose that looked like it'd been once been broken, but his dark eyes were endless, and his smile was a beautiful, open thing.

"Foggy. Is me. My name. Hi, I'm Foggy."

"Thanks for the coffee, Foggy."

"No problem. What did I get you?"

"A redeye."

Black coffee with a shot of espresso. Also known as a shot in the dark. Foggy drank those like water, but only from this place, where the espresso was smooth and the drip coffee didn't taste like it was used to rinse out a burnt toaster. He looked at his grande mocha toothache, then at Frank's cup longingly.

"I'm not putting any sugar in it so you'll think I'm tough," Frank said, his eyes twinkling and his enormous shoulders making the seams of his uniform creak.

"Wanna switch?" Foggy blurted. Frank raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, that was stupid. It's just that I don't take sugar, and just look at this thing, it's a heart palpitation waiting to happen, and--"

Frank put down the redeye with a thunk, then do-si-doed the mugs around. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted Foggy's mug and drank deeply. When he was done, his smile was ridiculously shy for a man whose biceps looked like that.

"You have whipped cream on your nose," breathed Foggy.

Frank swiped at his face. "Guess tough just went out the window," he said, and grinned. It was adorable.

He had the sweetest, pinkest lips Foggy'd ever seen and he wanted to reach over the table and loosen Frank's tie, maybe make those dark eyebrows arch in surprise by kissing his bare throat.

Foggy choked, nearly sending coffee out his tear-ducts. Kissing probably wasn't something he should be thinking about here, he told himself. Foggy didn't have close family in the military, but he knew that DADT was a thing that existed.

"Should you be talking to me in the open like this?" he asked.

Frank looked around, like he expected his commanding officer to be lurking behind the espresso machine or the judge advocate general to pop out from behind the woman with her hands poised unmoving on the laptop keyboard.

"There aren't many Navy bases in midtown Manhattan," he said, "but if you're saying you want to take this somewhere more private, I wouldn't say no."

Foggy grinned, in spite of himself. "No?"

Frank licked his lips. "No."

***

New York was done up in streetlights when they got out onto the sidewalk. As they walked through pools of light laid out like a string of pearls, they stayed close together but carefully not touching. Frank had his hands in his pockets. "I'm in temporary housing," Frank admitted, ducking his head, "basically a hostel."

Foggy nodded. He also had his hands in his pockets. "I live with that guy you saw. Matt. I could find out if he took Laura to our place or not."

Frank nodded. They probably looked like a bobble head convention. "That sounds awkward."

"Super awkward. I love that idiot but if I hear him having sex over the phone again, I _will_ have to set myself on fire." Frank looked sympathetic.

"Ok, call him up."

"Huh?" Foggy had his phone in his hand anyway, such was the authority in Frank's voice.

"I got this."

Foggy shrugged, scrolled through his contacts and hit the green button. He handed the phone to Frank.

"He's in your phone as Handsome Duck?" Frank's lips twitched.

"It's a long story. Look, what're you--"

"It's ringing." Frank bent his head so that Foggy could hear. "Matt's last name?"

"Murdock."

"Foggy, this really isn't a good time." Matt was--for the love of god--panting.

"Mr. Murdock, this is Private Frank Castle, United States Marine Corps," Frank drawled, sounding like, well, a huge Marine.

Utter silence from the phone. Then, "What? Why do you have Foggy's phone? Is he ok?"

"Sir, I need to ask you where you are right now."

"I'm at a friend's apartment! Laura, let go for a minute--what's happened?

"Thank you, Sir, I won't take any more of your time."

"No, wait!" Frank hung up.

Foggy rested his forehead on Frank's shoulder and tried not to die laughing. "That was mean."

"You telling me he didn't deserve it, at least a little?" Frank laughed, his arm sneaking around Foggy's shoulder. "He'll call back, and worst case scenario his boner will be out of the game for twenty, thirty minutes tops."

Foggy shook his head, but his face was warm and Frank's other hand was going for his hip. He jumped, not from the touch, but because he'd never realized how shrill his ringer was. He flipped open his phone.

"Hello--mmph!" Suddenly Frank's lips were on his. Scratch that, Frank was bending him backwards and kissing the Scarlett O'Hara out of him. "Oh wow," Foggy sighed.

"FOGGY!" bellowed the phone.

"Hi Matt," Foggy fluttered, staring into Frank's eyes, "what's up?"

"Someone just called me from your phone! Are you ok?"

"I'm fi--" This time, Frank licked deep into Foggy's mouth, sending fire thrilling down his spine.

"Why does it sound like you're kissing someone? You're kissing someone. Who are you ki--OH FOR SHIT'S SAKE, the soldier in the corner!"

Frank's filthy chuckle was probably audible all the way down the line.

"I gotta go, Matt, it's not really a good time," Foggy said dreamily, and felt Frank smile against his lips.

"Gimme the phone, Matt. You get 'em, Foggy!" Laura yelled, and then he and Frank were kissing to the faint buzz of the dial tone, under the yellow sodium glare of the street light.

Kissing Frank was sweet and slow and romantic, completely different from the frantic house party hook ups that Foggy had learned to make do with. He kept Foggy's head tipped back with a gentle hand on the side of his neck, his thumb stroking over the pulse, and Foggy leaned into a muscled chest as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge, feeling safe and protected in the circle of Frank's arms.

Frank pulled back and ran his fingers through Foggy's rumply hair. "You're so cute, I don't even know what to do about it. I wish I'd met you yesterday."

"Why's that?"

"I'm on a train to North Carolina tomorrow. Infantry training."

Foggy hadn't been aware his heart had risen so much, because now he felt it fall. "Oh."

Frank kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Foggy. I shouldn't have--"

"No! No. I'll take a few hours over not having met you at all." Foggy ran his hands down Frank's arms. "It'll be a good story, that time I kissed a Marine under the streetlamp."

"Then take me home, Lili Marlene."

***

It took them way longer than it should have to walk to Foggy's apartment, because Frank kept grabbing Foggy around the waist and crowding him into darkened corners.

"Frank," Foggy moaned, his arms locked around Frank's neck and his bottom lip caught between Frank's teeth, "it's just one more block."

When they finally _finally_ got to the apartment door and Foggy was trying to get the key into the lock, Frank slipped his arms around Foggy's middle from behind and turned his head for another kiss.

"Come on, Foggy," Frank murmured against the side of his neck, "stick it in."

Foggy dropped the keys.

***

Front door, hallway, bedroom door, wall next to the bed. Foggy's back had gotten up close and personal with them all, crushed between the feel of uneven drywall and the living heat of Frank's body. Foggy just tried to hold on as Frank pulled open his belt and shoved big, warm hands up under his tee-shirt.

"I'm sorry I'm not more--" Foggy made a gesture that meant _muscled and gorgeous like you_ but probably came across as _playing the accordion badly_.

"Shh, Foggy, you're delicious," Frank soothed, petting Foggy's belly lovingly and licking at a decidedly un-toned pectoral. Foggy's head fell back against the wall and he cursed trains, the military, and the entire state of North Carolina for conspiring to take this man away. His jeans hit the ground with a clatter of metal belt buckle, and he kicked them out of the way. Frank's hands immediately went to his ass. "Delicious," he groaned again, squeezing double handfuls.

"Ugh, Frank," Foggy burst out. He was hard, and he could feel the hard, cool edge of Frank's jacket buttons through the fabric of his boxers. "Bed, please."

His feet nearly left the ground as Frank spun him onto the bed. Foggy scrambled up on his knees and looked at the still-pristine jacket and tidily knotted tie, his hands hovering uncertainly.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never dismantled a Marine before. Could you get court martialed if the tie goes before the jacket? Is there a wrong way for you to get undressed?"

"Yeah." Frank wrenched open the jacket and pitched it away like it had bit him. "Slowly." He yanked the tie out of his shirt collar with a sound not unlike a whip crack.

When Frank was completely naked, Foggy's jaw was on the blanket. He wasn't just muscled, he was _carved from solid granite_ , and they were definitely leaving the lights on for this. Just breathing made his torso ripple in unspeakable ways. Frank seeing him jiggle was a small price to pay to watch that body flex and move.

"Why are you staring?" Frank's cheeks were a delicate pink and his body language was almost shy. But his cock was thick and flushed, already wet at the tip, and it was all just too much for a good Hell's Kitchen boy to bear.

"I really really want to have sex with you. Right now, if you're interested." Foggy said wholeheartedly.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh, are you usually on top or on the bottom?"

"How about both?" He pushed Frank flat and swung a leg over. "Can I ride you, Marine?"

"Oorah," Frank groaned, his hands tight on Foggy's hips.

Foggy rummaged in his nightstand for lube and a condom, pausing along the way to lick at the flush spreading down Frank's chest.

"You're gorgeous. God, I could come just looking at you," Foggy said, reaching behind himself with wet fingers, "like something out of a museum, a--" he gasped as he brushed his prostate, "a demi-god, a gladiator."

Two fingers, three. Foggy grabbed Frank's hand with his clean one and made him feel how wide he was stretching himself. "Gonna feel so good inside."

Frank stared up at him with huge, stunned eyes. He brushed gentle touches over Foggy's knuckles, snugged up against the rim of his ass and smeared with lube, and pushed a finger in alongside. Foggy strangled a moan.

"You're so sexy," Frank breathed, as Foggy started to move up and down on their joined hands, "I need you, Foggy, please."

"Easy, Private," Foggy said, because Frank went rigid when he curled his tongue around the hard consonants of that rank, made a word that was probably only ever barked at him sound soft and intimate. "I'll get you there."

Foggy wiped his hand on his thigh and got the condom out of the wrapper, smoothing it down with perhaps more strokes than strictly necessary. Under him, Frank's legs trembled. Foggy guided the head of Frank's cock to his hole but instead of pressing it inside, he let it rub him all over, up and down the shaft as Frank's hips jerked, the tip skating circles around the rim and almost, but never quite, popping in.

Frank's eyes were shut tight, and his mouth was moving soundlessly. It looked like he was saying "now" over and over.

"Ready?" Frank nodded. "Hey, open your eyes, Frank. You ok to go?"

Frank's pupils were blown, and his face was beautiful and open. He ran a reverent hand down Foggy's chest. "Yeah, Foggy, ready."

Foggy let his knees spread and slowly sank onto Frank's cock, his lip bitten between in his teeth and his eyes screwed shut, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure.

"Christ, you're a big boy," whispered Foggy, still deep inside himself, heaving desperate breaths and tilting his hips to take more of Frank inside. "Big," he gasped, when the head of Frank's cock found his prostate and made sparks go off all the way up his spine.

Frank kept the angle and bounced his ass, nailing Foggy at just the right spot to make pre-come roll thickly down his cock. The sound that came out of his mouth was not a mewl, but it was close.

"God yes, right there, don't stop," he cried. It was all one word.

Frank's voice was punched out of him, "if I weren't leaving tomorrow--I'd want to--"

"Want to what?" Foggy panted, stepping up the rhythm. Frank's neck started to cord from the strain.

"Want to make _promises_."

Foggy grabbed Frank by the jaw and kissed his mouth. It didn't matter if he wanted to hear what Frank wanted to say--date me, stay with me, love me--the train was still leaving the station.

"I know," he whispered, and kissed away the taste of regret. He smoothed his hands over Frank's mountain range of a torso, and started to move again. Slowly at first, grinding down with little flickers of his hips, then faster, making their skin slap together. Frank was deliciously thick, and Foggy twisted on his cock, arching his back, chasing the sparks.

"God, the way you move," Frank's head thrashed on the pillow. His fingers dug deep into Foggy's thighs, urging him on.

Foggy's orgasm was coiling up, hot and throbbing, at the base of his spine. Frank's pleading, gasping voice was like physical touch on Foggy, and he was pink down to his chiseled hipbones.

Foggy snapped his hips roughly. "Come now, Private," he ordered. He just caught sight of Frank's startled eyes, the whites standing out in his flushed face, before Frank curled into a sloppy sit-up and shot his load into the condom. Even through the latex, the heat of it made Foggy gasp, and Frank's hand on his cock, jerking him slickly, made him throw his head back and cry out.

"Frank, oh fuck!"

He screwed down onto Frank one last time, shuddering, and came all over his fist.

When the dancing lights cleared, Frank was standing next to the bed, his boxers halfway up his legs. He'd gotten rid of the condom and a washcloth was sitting on Foggy's nightstand.

"Stay," Foggy said, hair draped over his face and still a bit out of breath, "I'll take you to the station in the morning."

Frank's smile was soft, and he knelt next to the bed to tuck Foggy's hair behind his ear. "What if the Handsome Duck comes home?"

"He knows how to make coffee for three."

Frank chuckled, but there were still creases between his eyebrows.

"Sleep beside me. Just once." Foggy wasn't usually down for dramatic, deathless romances; he thought laughing together was the largest part of love, but somewhere between the lamplight and his jeans hitting the floor, he'd committed to having an entire relationship--flirting, falling in love, holding out your heart, seeing the end on the horizon, breaking up-- in one night.

Frank smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "Do you have a spare toothbrush?"

Anyone looking at Frank would have pegged him as the big spoon. Tall, broad, arms like tree trunks. A protector, if there ever was one. But when he slid into bed, he laid his head on Foggy's shoulder sweet as anything, and hummed happily when Foggy rolled him over and scooched up behind.

Foggy remembered kissing the muscled peak of his shoulder just before falling asleep.

***

In the morning, Frank shook him awake apologetically and told him he needed to pick up his things from the hostel. It was six o'clock, and the train left at ten. On autopilot, Foggy limped--his quads were screaming--to the coffee maker. Matt still wasn't home, so Foggy had a little standing-up nap while the coffee brewed.

The first cup went down his throat before he even bothered to pour one for Frank, who came out of the bedroom with his uniform pants done up but his shirt open.

The bastard was wearing his hat though.

"Why are we up so early? Is your gear in Maine?" Foggy groused, handing him the coffee and pointing at the sugar bowl.

Frank took the cup and kissed his temple in thanks, and Foggy saw thirty years of mornings stretch out in front of them before blowing away like steam.

"No, it was so I could do this." Frank hefted Foggy onto the table, pushed him back on his elbows, and sucked his brains out his cock.

"Ngrh," Foggy said, his head hanging over the other edge of the table. He was going to have to disinfect before Matt got home.

***

"Are you sure you want me to come in with you?" Foggy asked as they idled outside the station, "won't there be other Marines on the platform?"

Frank smoothed back Foggy's hair. "It's not a troop transport, Foggy. It's just me and a bunch of other people who need to get to Raleigh."

"So I shouldn't have brought this handkerchief to wave?"

Frank slung an arm around him. "Well, hell, I'm not going to stop you."

Foggy glanced around. Frank was tall and handsome in his uniform that was somehow pristine despite spending the night on Foggy's floor, and Foggy was a rumpled, long-haired weirdo with a thing for fingerless gloves. They probably looked like the start of a joke, but no one was looking at them, so he leaned into Frank's body and they watched the clock tick itself closer to ten o'clock.

At nine-thirty, Frank got up to collect his ticket. Foggy waited behind him and shuffled his feet. They had about twenty more minutes before the platform was announced, and his gut was screaming at him to do something--give Frank his phone number or offer to write or promise to be waiting for him when he came back from North Carolina, even though Frank made it sound like he'd get a posting right away.

"Hey, come with me." Frank pulled Foggy towards a photobooth--one of the old fashioned ones that spat out a strip of four. Frank squeezed his massive shoulders into the tiny enclosure, pulled Foggy into his lap, and they were kissing as soon as Frank shoved a coin into the slot.

Frank tore the photo strip in half--they'd kissed through all four flashes of the camera--and wrote something on the back before tucking it into Foggy's jacket pocket. The other half went into his duffel. A buzzy, barely understandable announcement told them that Frank's train was now boarding.

On the platform, minutes before the train was set to leave, Foggy stuck out an uncertain hand for Frank to shake. Frank stared at him like he was crazy, knocked it aside, and gathered him close. He kissed like he was trying to steal something to remember Foggy by.

A conductor blew a whistle, rather pointedly, and Foggy broke away with a gasp.

"Get on the train, Private," he ordered softly.

"Yes sir," Frank said.

Foggy kissed Frank once more, and then the distance took him away.

***

The apartment smelled of fresh coffee when Foggy got home.

"There you are," Matt said, pouring a cup like everything was normal and he wasn't sporting a hickey the size of a golfball, "I was worried you'd eloped."

Foggy threw his keys at the bowl next to the door. "No, I put him on a train to North Carolina," he sighed.

Matt's cup froze halfway to his mouth. "Why, was he bad in bed?" Foggy rolled his eyes, and he said as much. Matt put two coffee mugs on the coffee table and sat down next to Foggy. "Did he have to leave?"

"Pretty much."

"That sucks. I'm sorry, Foggy." Matt reached out, and Foggy put his head in Matt's lap so he could get his hair petted. His jacket crinkled and he fished out the torn strip of photographs. He looked surprised in the first one, but by the second one he had his fingers fisted in Frank's lapel, clinging tight.

He flipped the strip over and read what Frank had scrawled on the back. He smiled.

"I'm sad," Foggy said, "but I'm not sorry I met him." Matt hummed, and twisted a lock of Foggy's hair around his finger. "Matt, did Laura feed you?"

"She offered, but I ate when I got back."

"Where?"

"Here."

"At the kitchen table?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Foggy grinned into Matt's leg and shut his eyes. "No reason."

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff happens on [tumblr](http://www.werelibrarian.tumblr.com)


End file.
